Grieving You Awake
by Zevazo
Summary: What would you do if there was someone you loved more than literally anything? What if they were killed before your eyes? And what if you could bring them back? After days of pain and torture, Remus makes a bargain with the devil. PostOOTP, slash
1. Nothing

Disclaimer – Yeah. Mine? No. Rowling's. Crap-on-a-stick.

Author's Note – A reposted, slightly rearranged version of the final chapter in my Sirius/Remus slash series, which was written – yeah, a year and a half ago now. You don't have to read the others, but it starts with "Collar," if you're interested.

**Grieving You Awake**

Chapter One

Nothing

If things had worked out the way they were supposed to –

Well, let's be honest with ourselves. If things had worked out the way they were supposed to, I would be in Godric's Hollow with my parents, and Sirius and Remus would be living in domestic bliss down the street, where they could visit often.

But if things had worked out the way Sirius meant them to, I wouldn't have to live here. It was around last Christmas we talked about all this. It was late, and I went down to the kitchen for some water. Sirius and Professor Lupin – though he's been asking me to call him Remus lately – Sirius and Remus were at the table talking, and they asked me to join them. They told me how they wanted it to be. Remus apparently owns this house which belonged to his father. It's off in the middle of nowhere, too far from civilization to sell to anyone. Remus doesn't want to live there, though. "Bad memories," was all he said about it. From this and his letters, and some things Sirius told me, I'm starting to gather that his dad beat the shit out of him every couple of days. Hard to believe, Remus is what Mrs. Weasley calls "good-natured." Anyway. Their idea was that I could go live there, since it's so far from anywhere. And Remus is supposed to be really good at protective charms. We could all live there together. There are two bedrooms, which, since they were pretty openly sharing a bedroom already, would be a perfect number.

That was their dream, for all three of us to go off and live together, like the Marauders together again. They told me all about that at Christmas. They made sure I knew I had to come if they went to live there, which makes me think that damned portrait told someone I was going to leave. We talked about it all night – that and other things. I asked, joking of course, if we could get a dog, and Remus got the funniest look on his face. Sirius told me about one full moon in their sixth year, when they tried to mate Remus to somebody's border collie. They replaced the dog, because Remus said they had to. When Sirius finished the story, Remus said we could get a gerbil if I really needed another pet besides Hedwig.

We talked about it for hours and hours. And Remus has told me more about it. He's been writing to me pretty often for the whole two months of summer. Every couple of days. There were two weeks at one point where I didn't hear from him. I still don't know what happened there. He wrote me after two weeks telling me he was "perfectly all right" – his words, not mine. His handwriting was all shaky, and the letter wasn't too long – usually he writes a few pages. I'm a little worried about him. How can someone sound tired in a letter? Who cares how, he does sound tired.

If I were to live with them, I wouldn't be in my room right now. I'd be in the kitchen, or outside practicing Quidditch. Sirius was a Beater; Remus never played. He says he'd have had to skip too much practice. Sirius told me that's just an excuse, and that Remus doesn't fly very well at all.

I wouldn't be hungry right now. Sirius said that Remus cooks really well. I could go down for dinner right now, but I don't want to face my aunt and uncle. They won't miss me.

I've liked having Remus write to me. He answers all my questions, and he tells all these stories about when he was in school with Sirius and my dad. He answers all the questions I ask, anyway. Some of the things I'm afraid to ask are about him and Sirius. Have they lived together before? And – though I can't decide whether it's an important question or not – what did my dad think about it? About them? I never have gotten up the nerve to ask about that. And the real question – how does he feel now, now that Sirius is gone? Not as his friend or as my friend, but as Sirius's lover. I guess I could ask, but Remus is the mature, responsible one. I don't know if I could handle it if he said he felt like he was dying every day – or like he wishes he was – like I feel.

I think maybe now I know how Sirius felt when my parents died. It hits me suddenly, when I'm doing something normal and everyday. Then I feel guilty for forgetting up to then. And God how it hurts. Then again, I'm lucky. Sirius couldn't forget.

And I think too much and much too hard. About Sirius, of course – God, I loved him, he was my best friend and my brother and in some way my father too – but about other things too. And here's the strange part – I hate Bellatrix, who killed him, and I hate the Death Eaters who follow Voldemort – but I've learned a little about death, maybe, and I can't hate Voldemort himself. How must it be to have everyone you know either dead or despise you? And if he has power over death, like he claimed to me when I was eleven, isn't that so much worse? For that matter, what's evil? Maybe he only ... I don't know ... followed his heart. Heir of Slytherin. Fated to open the Chamber of Secrets. Which is probably metaphorical for the evil deep within a human being or some similar bullshit. Maybe he was born with something dark inside of him(and it would be so damn-it-all-to-hell easy if I really believed that). And maybe he wasn't. And maybe both. And I'll bet that's _why_ we can't live in the same world without killing each other. Sooner or later we would come to understand each other. And I cannot allow that to happen, because he's evil. And in the same way, he can't allow it, because I'm good, I hope. And he has to be evil, maybe, went one step too far down some metaphorical or magical or maybe even physical road, went too far before he even realized what he was doing-- or maybe he made a decision he can't take back. And God I know what it is to feel trapped.

Fact is, I don't know.

Which is why I do know I'm going completely insane here ...

... and if I'm not insane yet, I'm going to drive myself crazy, thinking in these dangerous circles. Hermione could handle these thoughts, Remus could, but the water is way, way too deep for me.

I wouldn't have thought so hard on this if I'd lived with them.

Dumbledore would never let us, of course. But we could have done it anyway, just not told him for a while. We could change the house so it wouldn't remind Remus of his dad anymore, and get Sirius out of that house where he's so miserable all the time. If we all lived together, Remus would be doing a lot better. He can't get a job these days. He has to show his registration to possible employers. He had to get a number, too, which he says is the most humiliating part of it all. It's tattooed on his arm. Looks like something from the Holocaust. Hedwig usually finds him at Grimmauld Place now. I think that might mean he doesn't have anywhere else to go.

It wouldn't matter if we were all together. Sirius' family was dripping in gold, none of us would really have to work. Remus could help me with my homework, and Sirius would give me flying tips, and I could maybe forget the fact that my life got signed on to kill or be killed by a megalomaniac who lacks a healthy death wish.

Maybe understanding people you hate is part of growing up. I can't get out of that, can I? Crap. I'll bet this is why Dumbledore is slightly mad. He's two hundred or so, that's one hell of a lot of growing up.

Sirius told me once that Remus plays the piano. Really well, I guess. I had no clue. He is a musician type, but I'd have expected violin or flute or something. I used to hear somebody playing at Grimmauld Place, but I thought it was a recording, that's how good he is. Sirius called him a "man of many talents" and I thought that was a good time to get out of the room. Hermione said I shouldn't encourage them, but I notice she didn't go back in there.

Hermione seems the least creeped by the fact that they sleep together. She doesn't approve – of course – but she doesn't approve any less than she would if it was a girl. That made no sense. She doesn't approve that they're having sex in a house full of juveniles, but she doesn't mind that they love each other. I'm pretty much okay with it, myself, now that I'm used to the idea; I just have to avoid any mental pictures. I can't really make it work in my head. I don't understand it. I could never think about Ron that way. Ron, now, he was the last one to figure out that they were sleeping together, and he just sort of cringes whenever he sees them next to each other, but I think he'll come around eventually. Mrs. Weasley is a terror, though.

It would have been great, really great, to live with my dad's best friends. I don't really mind that they sleep together. I don't really care, honestly – maybe it's a little weird, I guess, but Remus is a werewolf. You don't get much more different than that.

Wouldn't that be something to tell the Dursleys – "Bye, I'm going away to live with my godfather – you know, the convicted murderer – and his gay lover who happens to be a werewolf. I'll write sometime."

God, the looks on their faces would last a lifetime.

It could have been spectacular.

Which all brings me back to the very weird letter Hedwig brought me yesterday. It was in very, very familiar handwriting.

_Harry – _

_Remus has done something capitally stupid. Weird, huh? He's off having an identity crisis. I'd be angry with him, but he's too cute when he's depressed to stay angry at. So while he recovers his sanity and self-esteem, I'm writing to you, even though he told me not to. At five o'clock tomorrow evening, have all your stuff packed. I'll see you then and we can talk about that gerbil, right?_

It wasn't signed.

So it's a quarter to five now, and I haven't packed. Of course I haven't – even in a world of magic, this is way too far-fetched. I just sort of got everything together in one place.

Ten till five, and I'm waiting. Not waiting for anything in particular, of course. What would I be waiting for? There's nothing to wait for. You can't bring someone back from the dead. So I'm not waiting for anything, really.

Just waiting for nothing.

**TBC**


	2. Anything

Note — To explain the time frame, this happens about three weeks before Chapter One.

Chapter Two

Anything

Lord Voldemort was not pleased.

Remus Lupin was kneeling on the floor in front of him, battered and bleeding. He had been subjected to days of torture. The Cruciatus Curse began it. Lord Voldemort very much enjoyed hearing the normally calm, dignified werewolf scream. This was accompanied by physical beatings, and by the various forms of torture possible for a skilled Occlumens.

Yet Voldemort was still not pleased.

He had not yet broken the werewolf's dignity. Lupin endured it all with an iron determination. He had not yet revealed any information on the Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort had then thought that he could wrest the information from Lupin's mind. This was his most recent experiment.

Lupin was kneeling on the stone floor, now, in the center of the round, high-ceilinged room, at Voldemort's feet and surrounded on all sides by cloaked and masked Death Eaters. He knelt because he literally did not have the strength to stand. He was visibly trembling. Good. This assuaged Voldemort's anger somewhat.

"So," Voldemort said, in a silky hiss, "the wolf protects your mind, where the man cannot. An animal after all, then."

Lupin made no reply. Voldemort gestured to a Death Eater, who kicked the werewolf viciously, knocking him fully to the floor. A low, quickly stifled sound escaped his lips. It was something like a moan. "You answer when Lord Voldemort speaks," Voldemort hissed. "Now. Tell me. I am growing impatient with you, werewolf. Give me the names of the members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"No," Lupin whispered. Slowly, with a titanic effort of will, he pushed himself up, from the floor to his knees, and more shakily, from his knees to his feet. He stood there, swaying, in the center of the room, the effects of the week's torture showing clearly. Voldemort felt a faint and reluctant respect. Lupin was a worthy adversary indeed.

"No?" Voldemort repeated softly. They had this conversation daily.

"No," said Lupin.

"Crucio," said Voldemort, softly, his tone almost pleasant, and Lupin's pained screams filled the chamber.

* * *

_I can't do this much longer, _thought Remus.

He had long since given up on any hope of rescue. He had grown very familiar, over the past nine days, with the stone floor of the room where he was tortured. He knew every stone and every stain or dent where some previous victim had broken, shrieking and groveling and mocked as pathetic for giving in to what was far past human endurance. Only one thing did he hold onto; No one else would suffer this because of him. No one else would have to listen to their own screams because he had spoken their name.

The torture ended. He imagined Voldemort wanted to keep him at least partially sane.

"We are finished for the day," said Voldemort impassively.

A pair of Death Eaters seized his arms and pulled him up. He had stopped trying to identify who lay under the masks. Now it was back to the tiny, windowless room where he was kept. Back to the collar and chains. Back to his cage.

A voice spoke as he left, though, a voice like a childhood nightmare. "My lord," said the voice of Lucius Malfoy. "I recommend ..."

The door clapped shut, cutting off the rest of Malfoy's words.

Remus put it out of his mind as he was chained. Manacles at his wrists, the heavy leather collar around his neck. It was deeply humiliating, but it could have been worse. The chains and the clasp on the collar were iron. It could have been silver. Silver would have branded his wrists to the bone by now.

Remus curled himself up against the wall as the Death Eaters left, shivering in his thin robes.

It was one of those very annoying things about life that trouble was something you got yourself into. Remus was so logical he irritated himself sometimes, so it was hard to blame anyone else for his troubles. It always managed to be his fault, somehow. If he hadn't been so blindly trusting, he wouldn't have gotten into trouble with Lucius back in third year. If, however, he had trusted Sirius and had talked to him, Sirius would have trusted him in turn, and neither of them would have spent those thirteen years alone. If he'd taken his potion that night two years ago, Peter would have been safely locked away, and Sirius free.

If ... if. If he'd kept his head after Sirius died, instead of getting lost in his own terrifying grief, he wouldn't be in this situation. But as it was, he had allowed himself to be cornered, trapped, and dragged back here. Wherever "here" was.

_Oh, God. Sirius ..._

Exhausted, Remus managed to sleep.

Some indeterminate time later, he was awakened by the creak of the heavy door. He blinked and tried to look somewhat alive, disinclined to show his weakness more than absolutely necessary. He was surprised by a gentle, stroking hand on his shoulder.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and found himself looking into Lucius Malfoy's cold, slightly amused eyes.

"Oh, no," Remus said despondently, without thinking.

Malfoy caressed his hair lightly, laughing. "Oh, no? Is that how you greet your old lover?"

Remus scowled at him. He was not good at scowling, and he knew it, but better that than nothing. "We were anything but lovers, Lucius," he said grimly, "and I'll thank you not to bring up that old nightmare."

Lucius examined him closely. "You look much the worse for wear," he commented. Remus raised an eyebrow at this statement of the readily obvious. Lucius ran the edge of a light finger over Remus' bruised cheekbone, his soft lips. Remus shuddered, but didn't pull back. _I'm not thirteen anymore, _he told himself. _He shouldn't be able to bring back ... everything ... with barely a touch ..._

"Isn't this interesting," Lucius interrupted his thoughts, touching the collar. "Didn't I put one of these on you some years back?"

Remus moved away. "You did. And it would have to be some years back, wouldn't it. I haven't so much as seen you since I was fourteen."

"Yes, twenty-one years. But the memories come back, don't they?" said Lucius. "The collar ... the belt ... and the gag, of course ..." He studied Remus' face closely. "Why don't you stutter a little, Remy?" he asked. "It was always _so _very cute." He then leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the werewolf's. His lips were firm and insistent, his tongue caressing the inside of Remus' mouth, his hand on the back of the other's neck to restrain him from pulling back. Remus struggled, scared and repulsed, but even as he did, he felt a slow yearning. He wanted so much to be kissed ...

But not by Lucius Malfoy. Yet the memories, the good ones, and the bad ones, both came back so strong ...

Finally it ended, and Remus leaned back, panting slightly – not from fear, nor yet from arousal, just because he hadn't much been able to breathe. "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to need years of therapy when you're through with me?"

"You probably are," Lucius commented. He cupped Remus's face with one hand.

"Aren't you married?" Remus demanded, twisting away.

Lucius laughed softly. "Come, now. Fidelity isn't expected in arranged marriages."

"I am not thirteen anymore," said Remus, his eyes locked on Lucius, in fascinated horror. "You don't have anything to blackmail me with."

"But I do have you chained down," Lucius pointed out. "I can do whatever I want, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it." His hand ran along Remus's collarbone, down his ribs to his hip, and further –

Remus closed his eyes, shivering. "This isn't going to work. I've lived through this before, it's horrible, but it's no worse than anything else."

"If it's so horrible," said Lucius, "then why do you have a male lover? Out of curiosity. Or rather, why _did_ you have a male lover ..."

Remus kicked out sharply, abruptly, catching Lucius in the thigh, just below the groin. Lucius jumped, and then caught the werewolf's throat, forcing him to the floor. Remus lay on his back, breathing painfully past Lucius' hand. He felt with a grim satisfaction that it had been worth it. Lucius eased the pressure slightly. "Answer the question."

Remus suppressed an insane urge to laugh. _He's so bent on being a miniature Voldemort ... _"Because," he said painfully, "I did love Sirius. He never raped me. Whereas you ..."

"I have no intention of raping you, Remy," Lucius said calmly. His free hand travelled down Remus's torso, slow but rough.

"No?" Remus asked, pushing at the hand on his throat. The other hand he preferred not to think about.

Lucius smiled. "No. You will be perfectly willing, and you will do as I say, exactly as I say. I won't have to force you."

"Nice fantasy," said Remus scornfully. "Pity it won't happen."

Lucius caressed him casually, starting with his hair, exploring his face, at length his fingers resting back on the werewolf's throat. "You will be rewarded if you do as I say."

"Rewarded?" His laughter sounded harsh, and more than a little mad. "Rewarded, you say? Will this be before or after Voldemort finishes torturing me?"

Lucius slapped him. "Don't say the name."

Remus didn't put his hand to his face, though his skin was flushing livid in the mark of Lucius' fingers. "I'm not telling you anything."

He looked at Remus with a patronizing smile. Remus winced as his hands applied skillful pressure in their different locations. "Oh, Remy," he said. "Don't you realize? We already know who is in the Order of the Phoenix." Watching Remus' face closely, he began to recite the list of names. "Yourself, Sirius Black, Dumbledore. Arthur, Molly, Bill and Charlie Weasley. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Mad-Eye Moody. Arabella Figg. Mundungus Fletcher. Nymphadora Tonks ..."

Remus realized what was happening, and made his face blank, but it was too late. "Ah!" said Lucius, his eyes sparkling. "So they are in the Order! Well, thank you, Remy."

"Fuck you!" Remus hissed. He'd never before used the word while sober. He generally liked to be more original in his epithets.

Lucius laughed. "Good choice of words."

Remus pushed his hand away, hating himself. "All right," he whispered. "You have what you want. Go away."

"No," said Lucius. "I won't. I don't have what I want."

Remus sighed, struggling to collect himself again, and largely succeeding. "Isn't this a little far to take a schoolboy obsession?"

"Remy," Lucius chided, "you haven't asked me what your reward will be." His eyes suggested. So did his constantly moving, skillful hands.

Remus turned away, or tried to. "I don't want to know." I'm an adult, he told himself. I'm not a little boy to be taken advantage of any more. But he was too weak to fight back. Nine days of torture and the chains had left him more or less helpless.

"But since I'll be doing it anyway," Lucius said persuasively, "why not submit? Especially when you can be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams."

Remus stared at the wall. It didn't look back.

"The Dark Lord did not lie," said Lucius, "when he said Harry Potter's parents could be returned to life."

Remus froze, swiftly making the connection. Slowly, he turned back from the wall to Lucius. The older man had removed his hands. "You must be joking," Remus whispered, pushing himself into a seated position.

"The Dark Lord will give you back your lover, if you do as I say," Lucius said softly.

The two men looked at each other, Remus tense, and disgusted to find tears in his eyes; Lucius triumphant, smirking slightly, certain of his victory. "How much would you do, Remy?" asked Lucius, voice teasing. "How far would you go?"

"Anything," whispered Remus. "Anything you want. Anything _he_ wants. I'll do anything."

Lucius smiled. "I thought you'd say that."

_I'll pretend he's Sirius, _Remus told himself.

That proved to be impossible.

**TBC**


	3. Everything

**Note -- **Well, this is it. This is a wrap. After this, I shall finally post that promised sequel and/or second chapter to "The Invitation." And, Anna-Maria, thank you! My ego is swelling beyond all bounds. What a Christmas present to get such a review! Thank you very much. You are more than worthy.

**Chapter Three**

**Everything**

"You should never have done this, Remus."

"But I did. I'm not a saint, Sirius, I had to. I'd have done anything for you."

"Obviously. What hurts?"

"It would take far less time if I told you what doesn't hurt. Which would be my right eye, my right elbow ... "

"Oh, don't start. What hurts?"

"My back. My heart. Not to be melodramatic or anything."

"Let me see. I'll put something on it."

"Which one?"

"Your back, Remus. Don't be difficult."

"Okay."

"I don't know how it is, you can whine and be sulky without sounding childish. Why can't _I _do that?"

"I'm special."

"Yeah, but that doesn't relate. Here, help me with your shirt ... holy _hell!"_

"What?"

"The bruises. My God, Remus, your skin looks like a war zone. Was it always like this? With him?"

"Sometimes, I guess. Never quite as bad as this, though. This is a few years' worth, after all. Ah – careful –"

"I'm sorry. Remus, I can't believe you let him do this to you. Oh, God, was this all from a belt?"

"A whip, a little later, and I don't even want to know where he got the damned thing. Sirius, please!"

"Sorry, I'm not trying to hurt you, it's just that he broke the skin really deep here. It's going to sting. You shouldn't have let him –"

"First you're my mother and now you're my conscience. Any other fun role-playing games you'd like to try?"

"Remus."

"Sorry. Really, though. Ah, _damn _it all."

"Precisely. I have to ask – Did you tell them who was in the Order?"

"A few, and I didn't mean to. They tricked it out of me. I think they knew already. It just means to be careful, that's all. I think maybe they found out from somewhere else. They wouldn't have let me go otherwise. Do – do you hate me for this, Sirius?"

"No. Never."

"I love you, Sirius. I – I really love you."

"Why?"

"Not because of your healing salve, I can tell you that. God, that burns."

"Does not even resemble being my fault. Okay, is the rest of you like this? Because if so, the rest of your clothes are going to have to come off."

"Fine. Just – don't ..."

"What do you think I am? You were just raped, for crying out loud. I'm not going to try to sleep with you yet. Not sure I even want to, I'll keep thinking of who got to sleep with you _last_ ... it was _just _Lucius, right?"

"There are limits."

"Remus? I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"No, in – in comparison, it's a good kind of hurt ..."

"I wasn't talking about the healing."

"Neither was I."

A long pause ensued.

"Remus?"

"Yes."

"I love you too. No matter what you did to get me back, no matter what, I'll love you forever."

"I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living ..."

"What?"

"Muggle children's book. I'll buy you a copy."

"Well, it's true. I do love you."

"And you know I love you."

"Was it worth it?"

"You're worth anything, Sirius."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Remus? Oh, God. Remus, please don't cry. Don't cry ..."

"Then you don't either. Damn."

"I'm trying not to, but ... this is horrible. The scars you're going to have ..."

"Just a few more to add to my large collection."

"Don't joke about this. I don't even want to know what he did to you. Look at that! What _is_ that?"

"I can't look at it, Sirius. It's on my back. If you don't want to know, don't ask."

"Remus, I do love you."

"I love you, too."

Another long pause. And at last, a whisper in the dark:

"It's worth all that and more."

**End**


End file.
